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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27628430">Christmas Fandom Fun 2020</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/midnightinbarcelona/pseuds/midnightinbarcelona'>midnightinbarcelona</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Doctor Who, Doctor Who &amp; Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005), Family Ties (TV), Frasier (TV), Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman &amp; Terry Pratchett, The Devil Wears Prada (2006)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Family Fluff, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Fun, Love Stories, Multi, Random &amp; Short, Romantic Fluff</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 17:20:50</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>8,711</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27628430</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/midnightinbarcelona/pseuds/midnightinbarcelona</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Happy holidays everyone! After such a wild year, it seems appropriate to snuggle up with a few fun stories with some of my favorite characters and fandoms.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Alex P. Keaton/Ellen Reed, Aziraphale &amp; Crowley (Good Omens), Frasier Crane/Charlotte Connor, Martin Crane/Veronica "Ronee" Lawrence Crane, Metacrisis Tenth Doctor/Rose Tyler, Niles Crane/Daphne Moon, Tenth Doctor/Rose Tyler, The Doctor (Doctor Who)/Rose Tyler</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>47</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>15</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. A Brief Author's Note</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Welcome to a series of holiday mini stories (with multiple chapters), one-shots, songfics, crossovers, etc! I will be posting one chapter/story as much as possible, consisting of 12 "Days" or chapters of some of my favorite fandoms! Enjoy! :)</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. 1 - Family Ties: "Every Little Thing She Does is Magic" (Part 1)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>So this is my interpretation of what became of Alex P. Keaton after he left for New York City. As much as I loved Alex/Ellen together, I always thought he’d go for something different in the end. Who knows, I might write a separate Alex/Ellen fic with this challenge! Anyways, enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Nice to meet you. Name’s Alex P. Keaton with Dunn and Bradley.” An extended hand met another fellow businessman, accompanied with a toothy grin. </p><p>“Likewise, Mr. Keaton. How’s everything going at home?” </p><p>“Alright, I guess. Let’s get to business. When can I expect to see those reports on my desk?” </p><p>“By Tuesday, Mr. Keaton.” </p><p>“Fabulous, fabulous. Mr. Worthing, you said it was?” </p><p>“Oh, yes, Mr. Keaton.” </p><p>“Great. Thanks again.” </p><p>Alex P. Keaton strolled through the office, a grin resting on his lips. His assistant smiled at him as he passed her desk. </p><p>“So, Mr. Keaton,” she bubbled, “are you going to the new show on Broadway this Friday?” </p><p>“No, Martha, I’ve got to squeeze a few more hours in. Every opportunity counts when it comes to promotion time, you know!” </p><p>Martha shook her head. “You’d think it’d be enough to be junior executive. Guess you’re going for the head of the show, then, aren’t you?” </p><p>“Now you’ve got the idea!” Alex chimed as he took the cup of coffee she offered him. “Could you push back that 3 o’clock meeting to 4:30? I’ve got to squeeze in a meeting with Mr. Gray.” </p><p>“No worries, Mr. Keaton.” </p><p>“Thanks, Martha.” </p><p>Alex sipped his coffee as he shuffled into his office. He set his coffee to the side, starting to thumb through a few of the reports Martha had left on his desk. He glanced out of the window for a few moments before his stomach reminded him that he had skipped lunch. Alex grabbed his coat and briefcase to go to the local bistro for a sandwich. </p><p>As he walked down the bustling street, he glanced at his cell phone. Mallory had sent him several photos of his new niece. A soft smile touched the ends of his lips. “Who knew Mal would be the first to start a family?” he murmured to himself as he slipped into the bistro. Noting the few that waited in line ahead of him, Alex pulled out his phone to review a few emails, then sent a message to Mallory. </p><p>“Tell her to contact the future Keaton and Keaton for her tax returns!” </p><p>Alex smiled to himself, shaking his head as he approached the counter. He glanced over the menu and nodded when he was ready to order. “I’ll take a black coffee with the smoked salmon sandwich.” </p><p>The cashier rang up his order, handing Alex his coffee and plastic-wrapped sandwich after he paid. Alex found a table, and as he neared it, a black beret caught his eye. He glanced over his shoulder to see a brunette in a matching black trench coat and stilettos hurrying into the bistro. A purse was slung over her shoulder, books occupying her arms. He tried to pull his eyes off of her, but it was all in vain. It was so foolish, he knew, to believe she had Ellen’s tender locks and ballerina figure and Lauren’s bright eyes. </p><p>Their eyes met, and they exchanged soft smiles. Alex felt a breath catch in his throat at the thought of speaking to her. He had always had a way with women, with only a few leaving him breathless and hopeless. Those girls had long since disappeared from his life. Why then, did this girl, who had done nothing more than walk into a cafe, leave him puzzled in his own consciousness? </p><p>“Thank you,” she murmured to the cashier as she took her cup of coffee and croissant to her table. </p><p>Alex touched her arm as she passed him. “May I join you for lunch?” </p><p>A simple nod was her reply. “Come, sit across from me.” </p><p>Alex followed her to her table. As he sat across from her, his eyes focused on her scarlet lips against her pale skin. A breath caught in his throat. </p><p>“Everything alright, sir?” the girl murmured as she set her books beside her, laying her purse on top of the stack. </p><p>“Oh,” he came back to earth, “everything’s great. Fabulous. Wonderful. Lovely.” </p><p>She chuckled. “Clearly. Je m’appelle Lisette. What about you?” </p><p>“French?” </p><p>Lisette nodded once more. “You know it?”</p><p>“One of my old friends loved foreign films, so I know a bit myself. I’m, uh, Alex. Alex P. Keaton.” </p><p>“I know.” </p><p>His eyes widened. “But… how?” </p><p>She tilted her head towards his briefcase with gold engravings of the investment firm. “Hard to miss.” </p><p>Alex offered a smile as he took a bite of his sandwich. “So,” he said as he chewed the bite, “you’re French?” </p><p>“Not quite. I’m French American. Born in France, live in the United States.”</p><p>“Ah,” he tutted as he continued to eat, “so I see. So, you know what I do. What, uh, what do you do for a living?” </p><p>“I’m an English professor and ESL tutor at New York University. Often I play piano with the NYC Ballet for rehearsals. Brings in a few extra bucks an hour, so that’s nice and all.” </p><p>Alex glanced at the floor at the mention of the ballet. “Yeah, the ballet’s great and all.” </p><p>“Have you been to a performance?” </p><p>“No, but I’ve been planning on it, I guess.” Truth be told, even the sight of a ballet slipper brought a tear to Alex’s eye. </p><p>“You guess? Monsieur Keaton, the NYC Ballet is magnificent. You should see The Nutcracker this December.”</p><p>“I mean, that sounds great, but I don’t have tickets or anything.”</p><p>“Lucky for you, I do. My godfather saw it last year, so why don’t you have my ticket? If you have someone you’d like to take, they’re welcome to come as well.”</p><p>Color rose to Alex’s cheeks. “No, that won’t be necessary. I don’t really have time to sit and watch a bunch of people in tights anyway.” </p><p>Lisette’s eyes met his. “That’s not true, Monsieur. You and I both know it.”</p><p>“Lisette, I have work to do. Is that such a crime?” </p><p>She smirked at him. “You think I have no understanding of the world of economics, don’t you, Monsieur Keaton? But the fact is, I once was a marketing executive for Dunn and Bradley.” </p><p>Alex’s jaw dropped. “But you just said you worked at NYU!” </p><p>“I do, but I minored in economics at university and majored in English. The combination of the two disciplines made me an auspicious match for Dunn and Bradley’s opening. I worked there for about two years, then I found myself bored with my job. I missed working with students every day. I prefer human interactions to computers.”</p><p>Alex shared her smirk. “Yeah, but you’re just saying that. You don’t know what inflation is or anything like that, right?”</p><p>“Inflation is an increase in currency supply relative to the number of people engaging in transactions with said currency, resulting in high prices and devaluation of the currency. Its converse is deflation, which is an instance where prices of goods and services decline, usually due to a lack of demand and forced laying off of laborers.”</p><p>Alex simply shook his head. “In all my years, I’ve never met a woman who knew her economics that well. Most people just say inflation’s ‘high prices’ or something like that. You’re impressive.”</p><p>“I didn’t intend to impress you, Monsieur Keaton. I only desired to prove my credulity.” </p><p>A smile slipped across Alex’s lips. “You definitely did. I didn’t expect that from you. Well, I would love to go to The Nutcracker this season, but-”</p><p>“But what? What’s holding you back, Monsieur?”</p><p>A certain ballerina danced in his memory. Alex winced at the thought of her. “Lisette, it’s fine, really. Don’t worry about me.”</p><p>Lisette shook her head. “You’re hiding some heartbreak, I see. Well, don’t worry. I’ll have my ticket for a while, so if you change your mind-” </p><p>“Do you know someone named Ellen Reed?” he burst, his heart pounding furiously in his chest.</p><p>Lisette paused. She thought for a moment. “Maybe you mean Ellen Reed Meyers? She came from Paris a few years ago.”</p><p>Alex stifled a groan. “She’s married now?”</p><p>“Yes, and I can tell you loved her once.”</p><p>He shook his head in defeat. “Is she going to be in the ballet?”</p><p>“She’s Marzipan, the lead ballerina in the ‘Dance of the Mirlitons’ piece. Quite a talented dancer, I might add,” Lisette mused. </p><p>Alex’s eyes watered over. He glanced up at Lisette, who had offered him her handkerchief. “That’s alright,” he muttered between shaky breaths, “I’m fine, really.”</p><p>Lisette touched his arm. “Monsieur Keaton, it’s okay to cry. I’ve had my share of heartbreak too.”</p><p>“Oh, Lisette, she was something else. The only woman who really understood me.”</p><p>“What makes you think another woman can’t understand you?”</p><p>Alex’s breath caught as he glanced up into her mesmerizing eyes. “What, do you want to understand me? You know my type, don’t you? I’m the greedy old meiser on Wall Street. What girl wants that for a husband?”</p><p>Lisette stifled a laugh. “Oh, Monsieur Keaton, don’t you see? I was once you. Before I went to teach at NYU, I detached myself from everyone and everything, even myself. I existed solely for my self interests, or what I told myself my self interests were. When I moved here from France, I was a young and hungry girl. Since I left Dunn and Bradley, I’ve found myself enjoying life a lot more. I can focus a bit more on others now, and it feels nice. I think all you need is a little bit of light in your life, Monsieur Keaton.”</p><p>Alex nodded slowly. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”</p><p>“Come with me to The Nutcracker, Monsieur Keaton. You’d love it, I promise.”</p><p>“Alright, I’ll go with you. Not because I want to meet Ellen, but because I want that light you mentioned in my life.”</p><p>Lisette smiled at him. “Wonderful, then. Oh,” she glanced at her watch, “I’ve really got to go, Monsieur Keaton. I have to be back in the Village in 45 minutes for a class. I’ll see you later then?”</p><p>“Yes, yes of course. Thanks for joining me for lunch. Do you want to exchange numbers so we can get in touch later?”</p><p>After doing so, Alex watched the black beret and trench coat hurry out into the September afternoon to catch the next subway. He smiled to himself. Was he in love with the French girl? Perhaps. Was he afraid of loving her? No, for he knew her heart was made of steel and vigor, and her feet were rooted firmly in New York City, judging by how devoted she was to her work. Maybe things were turning around for Alex P. Keaton at last.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hope you enjoyed! What do you think happened to Alex after he left for New York City? I'd love to hear your thoughts and predictions for the next chapter in the comments. Kudos and any other comments/suggestions are always appreciated.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. 2 - Family Ties: "Every Little Thing She Does is Magic" (Part 2)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>First: happy Thanksgiving to all of my American readers! Please stay safe and have a wonderful holiday! Second: this is the final part of the 2 part Family Ties story! I might write another one for this challenge later in the month, we'll see. Enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Alex straightened his tie as he stepped off of the red line train at the Lincoln Center stop. He steadied himself with a few slow breaths before climbing the stairs to the surface level. Upon walking across the street to the David Koch Theater, he spotted a red trench coat and beret among the sea of black. He felt a smile tug at his lips as he walked over to her, until he noticed a few other men crowding around her.</p><p>“Mademoiselle, this is the last time I’m gonna ask you nicely. Will you go out with me?” one of the men pressed her, grabbing her wrist.</p><p>“I’m afraid she can’t. She’s my date tonight,” Alex piped up, his eyes meeting hers. </p><p>“Monsieur Keaton!” Lisette called out to him, her smile wide. </p><p>The other men groaned as Alex gave them death stares and took Lisette’s hand. “Come on, Lisette. The ballet was a wonderful idea tonight!”</p><p>Once they were far enough from the men, Alex leaned over to whisper in her ear. “Do you always get that kind of attention?”</p><p>“It comes and goes. Nothing I can’t handle, though I really did appreciate you stepping in for me.” </p><p>He bit his lip. “Right. Okay, let’s go on into the theater, then.”</p><p>After the two were seated, Alex glanced at his Playbill. He winced at Ellen’s name and picture. Lisette noticed this and placed her hand on his arm. “Monsieur, tonight’s performance will be lovely.”</p><p>“Alex?” a voice called behind him. Alex recognized it all too easily.</p><p>“Ellen?” he breathed as he turned to face her. “I thought you were in this.” </p><p>“I was, until I tore my ACL a few weeks ago. How is everything?”</p><p>“Great. Fantastic. Uh, this is my date, Lisette Beaulieu.”</p><p>Ellen smiled at Lisette. “Lisette and I go way back. Back to Paris, remember?”</p><p>Lisette’s smile faltered. “Yes, how could I forget?”</p><p>Alex’s eyebrows rose as he noticed the muscles in Lisette’s face tense. “Well, Ellen, it’s, uh, it’s nice to see you. Lisette told me you have a family now.”</p><p>Ellen nodded slowly, her eyes only meeting his in small intervals. “My husband is sitting in the balcony with my daughter. Anyway, it’s good to see you too. Have a good evening.”</p><p>“You too,” Alex called as she left him and Lisette.</p><p>Alex turned to his date, whose silence grew more and more ominous by the moment. “What was that about?”</p><p>“It’s not a big deal, Alex. Life happened, that’s all.”</p><p>He took her hand in his. “Tell me.”</p><p>Lisette sighed out slowly. “Alright. You want to know how I got this job as a pianist for the ballet? I was going to be the ballet’s prima ballerina. I trained for years in Paris, where Ellen and I met, and I was going to be the Sugar Plum Fairy my first year at the ballet. Everything was perfect, until my knees gave out. I don’t have arthritis, but it’s basically chronic joint pain. Anyway, after the director learned about my knees, he dismissed me from the ballet. I also was barely making their weight requirements, even though I was skin and bones at the time. Thankfully, while I was training at the ballet in Paris, I was wise enough to study English and economics. I interned at NYU, then Dunn and Bradley hired me, like I told you, and you know the rest. The New York City Ballet has always offered me this position as something like compensation for my efforts to be a worthy ballerina. That’s what all that was about.”</p><p>Alex’s eyes widened. “I’m so sorry, Lisette.”</p><p>She smiled wryly. “It’s alright. And you can call me Lise, if you like.”</p><p>He shared her smile, noting the hint of warmth in her eyes. “As long as you’ll call me Alex.”</p><p>“It’s a deal, Alex. I’m really proud of the way you handled yourself around Ellen, by the way.”</p><p>“It was hard, no doubt, because for a moment I wanted things to be the way they were way back when. But then I remembered my date and how much life has changed since then, and you know, she’s moved on, and so have I.”</p><p>Lisette squeezed his hand. “Like I said, I’m really proud of you.” </p><p>Alex’s smile grew as their eyes met. He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her cheek. “Thank you, Lise. Coming from you, that means a lot.”</p><p>Lisette’s eyes glowed at his touch. “Merci.”</p><p>“You’re welcome. You know, I’m really impressed with how well you picked yourself up after failure. I’ve always wondered what would have happened if I came all the way out to the Big Apple and failed as a financial executive.”</p><p>“Well,” Lisette bit her lip, “you know, I couldn’t control my circumstances. C’est la vie. I guess if I had really failed I would have moved back to France and gotten married to my old boyfriend.”</p><p>“Old boyfriend?”</p><p>“Oui, his name was Mathieu. We had quite a romance, until my godfather sent me off to Paris. Mathieu sent me letters every week, until I told him that I was headed to New York. All of a sudden, the letters stopped coming, as if his silence was punishment for my success.”</p><p>Alex’s eyebrows rose. “Wow. What did you do?”</p><p>“I stopped writing to him. I was wasting my time and energy on those letters.”</p><p>“Did it help?”</p><p>Lisette shrugged. “For a bit. I realized that there was more to life than worrying about someone who doesn’t care about you anymore.”</p><p>Tears formed in Alex’s eyes. He tried to blink them away, failing miserably as the memories pulsed in his mind. “I know exactly how you feel, Lise.”</p><p>A soft smile rested on Lisette’s deep red lips. “Well, enough talk of heartbreak for the evening. I don’t know about you, Alex, but I came to enjoy myself! This is one of my favorite ballets, after all.”</p><p>As she spoke, the lights dimmed, and Alex let his hand rest on top of Lisette’s, which was lying on the armrest between them. She glanced up at him, a twinkle in her eye meeting his small smile. The orchestra commenced the production with the famous overture, the dancers following out onto the stage upon the appropriate cues.</p><p>When it came time for the Sugar Plum Fairy to make her appearance, Alex’s jaw dropped. He watched her glide across the stage, spinning and twisting as if it was as simple as walking. He stole glances at his date, wondering at her athletic capabilities before her injury. Had she been able to balance her weight on the tips of her toes, floating between steps like an angel?</p><p>The two hurried out of the theater as soon as the show ended, eager to beat the foot traffic. “So, how did you like it?” Lisette piped up as the two descended into the subway station en route to a place Alex had recommended for a late dinner. He reached for her hand as they neared the train, his eyes searching for any of the men that had given her trouble before. Once they had found a spot to stand, he smiled down at her.</p><p>“That was amazing. I’ll be honest, I’ve never seen anything like it in my life. So you were supposed to be the Sugar Plum Fairy, right? You could do all that she did?”</p><p>When Lisette nodded modestly, his jaw dropped once more. “Seriously? What were those little twists she kept doing with the guy?”</p><p>“Fouettes.”</p><p>“Yeah, those. Those looked a bit tricky.” </p><p>Lisette snickered to herself. “They most certainly are. It took me months to get the feel of it just right. But when I got into the rhythm, I could do it for hours. It all has to do with the physics term torque. But I’ll spare you the science.”</p><p>Alex nodded. “I really liked the bits with the Prince guy and the Fairy. Was that really hard too?”</p><p>“Oh yes. That’s the hardest bit.”</p><p>“Really?” he quipped. “Why’s that? I mean, it’s not like you can get hurt when a guy’s holding onto you for dear life or anything.”</p><p>Lisette winced. “The coordination and skill required to make the dance look effortless is almost impossible. My partner was excellent, but we had mishaps every now and then that landed us in a few days of bedrest. One time he accidentally dropped me and when I landed, my entire right leg bore the brunt of my body weight. I went to the hospital that time. Scariest accident I ever had. That was when I started noticing problems with my knees.”</p><p>A cringe dashed across Alex’s face. He could almost hear the crack of her leg hitting the stage in his ears. “That had to hurt.”</p><p>“It’s nothing to worry over anymore. All in the past. I didn’t mean to share all of that with you, but-”</p><p>“Lise, I asked. It’s interesting to talk to someone who was actually behind the scenes and experiencing the secrets of the show, you know? I like your stories.”</p><p>“Really?” she murmured, color rising to her cheeks.</p><p>“Really,” he nodded at her, his eyes glowing with enjoyment as he noticed the small streaks of blonde in her hair. The ex-ballerina had spent a few hours in the sun, or so it seemed.</p><p>She suppressed a grin, noticing how his eyes traveled down her face, eventually resting in a shared glance. “Merci. Anyway, so you liked it? Maybe you’d like to come to The Firebird in the springtime?”</p><p>He studied the foreign girl in the red beret, her golden brown eyes making his knees wobble slightly. The last girl to make him grow weak in the knees wasn’t important to him anymore. “I’d love to.” As Lisette wore a bright smile, Alex found himself wandering down the road he had sworn he’d never know again: love.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hope you enjoyed the story! This was originally from a larger fanfic called "Every Little Thing She Does is Magic," which has several chapters and explores Alex and Lisette's relationship, especially in terms of gender equality and overall egalitarianism. If anyone is interested in reading the other parts of that fanfic, please let me know in the comments! As always, kudos and comments are appreciated. The Devil Wears Prada is next for tomorrow :)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. 3 - The Devil Wears Prada: "Cerulean Christmas"</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Inspired by, of course, the famous scene in which Andy wears her cerulean sweater to work, only to find her sense of fashion is shredded under the scope of Miranda Priestly. Just a quick one-shot, all for fun!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“How on earth is it that I manage to get invited to these shams of holiday celebrations?” Miranda Priestly mused as she thumbed through a series of sweaters in the Runway collection closet, each more detestable and expensive than the last. </p><p>She held up a black sweater with white poms for inspection. “Really, MacQueen? We went with this? Black, classic, poms, juvenile.” </p><p>A knock echoed on her closet door. “Come in before next Christmas’s collection dies on the rack in a department store, please.” As the new assistant tiptoed her way into the closet, she clutched a clipboard of to-do lists and news clippings.</p><p>“Miranda, I have Armani on the line.”</p><p>“Tell him I’m occupied with the horror that is sweater fashion these days.” </p><p>“Oh, I, well, of course.”</p><p>Before the assistant could put the cell phone up to her ear, Miranda removed the phone from her grasp, shifting it to her own ear. “Armani? Send me your new scarves by Monday. I want it on my desk for the winter edition of Runway, do you understand? Perfect. I’m so glad we’ve made this clear.” She dumped the phone back into the assistant’s palm, not batting an eyelash as she continued to peruse her sweater collection.</p><p>The assistant, after relaying some basic and rather unnecessary information to Miranda, shuffled off to her desk. </p><p>“This is just what I was looking for, as I suppose it really suits the theme.” A Grinchy grin crawled across Miranda’s lips as she held up a familiar cerulean sweater to the mirror, as a reminder of one of her favorite interns. She nodded slowly, reaching for her invitation to Nigel’s ugly Christmas sweater party, of which she had been informed a certain renowned journalist, Ms. Andrea Sachs, would be in attendance.</p><p>“Perfect,” she purred as she slipped it on over her head, donning a yellow pendant necklace to add a hint of color to the ensemble. “How resonant with the so-called spirit of Christmas, giving the gift of fashion wisdom to all in attendance.”</p><p>Just as Miranda was about to call a taxi to leave for the party, her phone rang. She arched an eyebrow as she answered it. “Hello?”</p><p>“Mom!” one voice cried. “Hello, Mom!” another chimed. </p><p>The Grinch’s smile disappeared from Miranda’s lips at the sound of the twins’ voices. “Hello, girls. Is everything alright?”</p><p>“Yeah, we just wanted to say that we’re so excited that you’re going to spend Christmas with us tonight!”</p><p>“Are you bringing the new Harry Potter books you promised us? When are you coming home?”</p><p>Miranda smiled softly to herself, remembering her promises to her daughters of her arrival after the party and the books she had sent her assistant out for last week. She had already made arrangements for another set of clothing to be packed and ready before she came home. “I’m excited too, girls, and the books are here. Be on your best behavior, and we’ll see how good Santa will be to you two tonight. I’ll be home for Christmas as soon as possible.” </p><p>“Yay!” the girls cried as she blew them a kiss through the phone before hanging up. </p><p>Sure, Miranda Priestly was the Devil in a cerulean sweater, but her heart had just grown three sizes at the thought of snuggling with her daughters beside the fireplace. </p><p>Maybe, just maybe, she wasn’t so much of a Devil after all. At least, when she was out of office.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hope you enjoyed! This was my first attempt at writing fanfiction for TDWP, so I'm sure it sounds a little rough here and there, but it was fun to write :) Kudos and comments are always appreciated! Doctor Who is next for tomorrow!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. 4 - Doctor Who: "Warm From Afar"</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Just a sweet Ten/Rose one-shot, post the events of Rose getting with the Metacrisis Tenth Doctor. All you need to know is that Eleanor is her daughter and the Doctor's goddaughter, which was featured in my earlier fic, "Doing Domestic." I'll be publishing this one-shot to that as well, just to keep things cohesive for everyone, but feel free to check it out! Enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Well, I woke up today<br/>And you’re on the other side<br/>Our time will never come again.<br/>But if you can still dream<br/>Close your eyes, it will seem<br/>That you can see me now and then…” <br/>-“Song for Ten”</p><p>Rose Tyler strolled down the sidewalk, studying the crisp swirls of water vapor she exhaled with each breath. Trying to warm her extremities, she clenched her fists together in her gloves, wishing she had remembered to grab a scarf from the house. </p><p>Her boots left small footsteps behind her as she neared the school building. A few other parents were waiting by the door, talking in quiet voices amongst themselves. </p><p>Why hadn’t she gotten involved with the other parents at Eleanor’s school? That’s right, she reminded herself, right as Eleanor was starting to have class parties and events with the PTA, Rose had just had her twin boys, the very same boys her mother was caring for as she picked up Eleanor from school. Time had slipped by, once again, which seemed quite amusing for the wife of a half-human, half-Time Lord. </p><p>He stood from afar, the wind chapping his cheeks as he leaned against the lamppost. It was true, he had never forgotten his one, true love, even if he was having new adventures with Donna by the hour. Donna had requested to make a stop for some hot chocolate, just regular old hot chocolate, and he had remembered a cafe in Arromanches-Les-Bains, which just so happened to be the home of Rose Tyler and his little goddaughter. </p><p>His eyes softened as she shivered with another wind gust, and he approached her from behind, removing his scarf to wrap around her neck tenderly. </p><p>Rose glanced up at him quickly upon feeling the scarf around her neck. “Doctor,” she breathed, a warm smile dashing across her lips. </p><p>“Hullo, Rose. Waiting for Eleanor, then?”</p><p>She nodded, taking his gloved hand in hers. “She’ll be out in a moment. We’re going t’ stop by the boulangerie on the way back home, if you’d like t’ join us.”<br/>“I’m afraid this is going to be a brief visit. Donna wanted some cocoa, so this is a pit stop for us. Thought I’d say hullo and happy Christmas while I was in town.”</p><p>“S’ glad you did. D’you want to see Eleanor, at least?”</p><p>“Not enough time.”</p><p>She scrunched her nose. “Not even for a Time Lord?”</p><p>“Especially not for a Time Lord. Rose,” he felt his breath catch in his throat, “I want you to have this.” He dug out a wrapped package from his trench coat pocket. </p><p>Her eyes widened with excitement as she tore open the wrapping. “Oh, Doctor, wha’ is all of this?”</p><p>“A journal from an adventure I had with Martha. I think it belongs to you.” </p><p>Rose traced the leather, soft and supple against her fingertips. “A Journal of Impossible Things.” Her fingers glided through the pages, which fluttered with a gentle ripple at her touch. She stopped when her eyes met a familiar face. </p><p>“That’s me, isn’t it?” </p><p>His smile widened into a grin. “Quite right, too.” </p><p>Her grin met his. “I was in your journal o’ impossible things?”</p><p>“You’re the most impossible thing I know, Marion Rose Tyler, Bad Wolf of the universe.” </p><p>“Same goes for you, Doctor, Doctor Who? You ne’er told me your name. I always called you Doctor, but then again, so does everyone else.”</p><p>His deep brown eyes met hers, locking with her gaze. “That’s my second gift to you, and only you. Come here.” He whispered a foreign uttering into her ear, just loud enough for her to discern a syllable from a pause. </p><p>“Tha’s your name? That long jumble o’ sounds?”</p><p>“It’s Gallifreyan, of course, so yeah.”</p><p>“Wha’s it mean?”</p><p>“The Impossible One, in one translation.”</p><p>Rose shook her head, a chuckle slipping from her lips. “’s really too fitting, innit. We’re both impossible, aren’t we?”</p><p>“Maybe, but she isn’t.” The Doctor nodded at the little brunette girl who was racing down the steps of the school building towards her mother. “I’m off then, Rose. Say hullo to John and the boys for me.”</p><p>“Wait, Doctor, I never gave you a Christmas gift!” </p><p>“You most certainly have.” With that, he hurried back to the cafe to collect Donna, leaving Rose with his journal, his scarf, and his name. </p><p>She had given him far more Christmas gifts than he could ever repay: every warm and waking moment she’d spent with him, which he could close his eyes and see, every now and then. </p><p>It was the best gift he’d never asked for but always dreamed of.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hope you enjoyed! I know the Doctor never really shares his/her name in the series, but I always thought that if he/she would share it with anyone, it would be Rose. What do you think? I'd love to hear your thoughts in the comments! Kudos/comments/suggestions are always appreciated! Tomorrow will be Good Omens, which I had a lot of fun brainstorming with my friend this past week! :)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. 5 - Good Omens: "Christmas Chance" (Part 1)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Just a small, 2 part fic about my favorite angel/demon duo! Enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Crowley had always liked Christmas. That was a fact, one of those things people knew as an element of common knowledge among friends and family. </p><p>Aziraphale shared this knowledge. That very fact was the reason why he was standing before the Almighty, his breath shaking for a few moments, his gaze transfixed upon His Holiness. </p><p>“Aziraphale, member of the Heavenly Hosts, you come to me with a request. A rather interesting one, at that.”</p><p>“Well, sir, I suppose you already know what it is, then,” he squeaked, his heart thumping with wild reverence each passing moment. </p><p>“You wish for the demon Crowley to become an angel tonight.”</p><p>Aziraphale forced a nod. “Y-yes, your Holiness.”</p><p>“Why?”</p><p>“Well, sir, you know-”</p><p>“But I’m asking for a reason. Talk with me, my noble servant.”</p><p>Oh, how Aziraphale sometimes longed for the freedom which the people of earth had in speaking with the Almighty.</p><p>“Well, sir, you and I both know he’s not the greatest demon. He tries, but he really rather hung around the wrong crowd. Honest mistake, really. I happened to hang around with the right one, you see. Oh, well, it’s just… the dear boy deserves a second chance. You are the One of second chances, and, well… can’t a fallen angel rise again?”</p><p>“Aziraphale, faithful servant, I shall see your request through. The fallen angel Crowley will be among the hosts tonight. Guide him well, and we shall see what becomes of this freedom.”</p><p>____________________________________________________________________________</p><p>“What’s it with you and Christmas, Crowley? You never seem to do anything really evil during the whole month of December, you know,” Hastur muttered as he and Crowley took the escalator down to Hell.</p><p>“Just a different time of year. There’s lots of cheer, and it’s a bit difficult to stifle that sometimes. Really, I blame the Hallmark movies,” Crowley shrugged. </p><p>“Thought you invented those as an insult to cinema. Plague on the critics, remember?”</p><p>“Just so happens to have an adverse effect sometimes. Nothing we can’t conquer, wouldn’t you agree?” Crowley would never admit that Aziraphale had helped him make the movie scripts as saccharine as possible, fully aware of the double wielding effect it would create in modern cinema culture. This was a plus for him, really, as he enjoyed making Ligur and Hastur’s jobs as long and painful as possible, especially with over-the-top cheer. </p><p>They reached the bottom of the escalator, and a sudden veil of unfamiliarity shadowed Crowley. “Hastur, I think I forgot one little thing up there. Tell me what Beezlebub says about the benevolence reports, will you?”</p><p>“Never.”</p><p>“Thanks,” Crowley switched to the upwards escalator, cringing at the darkness all the way up. At the top of the escalator, a familiar face awaited him. </p><p>“Crowley!” Aziraphale grinned at him from ear to ear. </p><p>Crowley’s eyes darted around the escalator pavilion. “This really isn’t the best place, you know.”</p><p>“On the contrary. It’s splendid, you’ll see!” Aziraphale took Crowley’s arm as they returned to earth.</p><p>Crowley’s eyes were wide at his friend’s elation. “What the hell are you doing, grabbing my arm and all? Aren’t you the one who’s always afraid of people seeing us together? Fraternizing, wasn’t that the word you once used?”</p><p>“He’s giving you a second chance, Crowley, a proper one! Come on, why don’t you come with me to the bookshop, and we’ll think of ways to really make this chance the best one!”</p><p>Crowley wore a small smile, longing to indulge his friend, despite his suspicion that the whole concept of God granting him a second chance was out of the question.</p><p>Then again, God had used him to prevent the end of the world. Who was to say that he couldn’t use him for good on earth, just one day out of the year, at the very least?</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Kudos and comments are always appreciated! Part two will be up tomorrow :)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. 6 - Good Omens: "Christmas Chance" (Part 2)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>So sorry for the late upload! I was visiting a friend for the holidays and had connection issues, so I had to wait to upload this a day late. This is short and sweet, but I hope to expand this idea in another fic later, depending on reception. Enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Crowley looked on as the two walked through London, conspicuously, unashamed, for once. Everything seemed a little friendlier, a little warmer, a little brighter. </p><p>Aziraphale grinned at him. “So, what shall we do as angels, my dear boy? Guide a lonely soul, cure a malady of unfaithfulness, or-”</p><p>“Just let things happen, angel. You know, I think I’d be better off if I handled this on my own. We’ll talk afterwards, check on my progress and all, you know.” </p><p>Aziraphale pursed his lips. He drew in a breath, trying to argue against the former demon, but deep down he knew Crowley worked better alone. He always had. </p><p>“If that’s what you wish. Why don’t we meet at the Ritz for dinner, just to check on your progress?”</p><p>Crowley gave a small nod, smiling as he left his friend to seek a task worth completing on Christmas Eve. He wandered up and down the familiar streets of London, his eyes, which were brown rather than noticeably snake-like, searched the avenues and boulevards, finding nothing quite in need of his immediate attention. </p><p>Just when he had begun to lose all hope, a still, small voice echoed in the recesses of his mind. Paris, Crowley. Go to Paris. Trocadero. Someone is in desperate need of your help. </p><p>Without thinking a second thought, Crowley was whisked through space across the English Channel. One blink of his eyes, and he found himself standing at the Trocadero Metro station, right in front of the Eiffel Tower. </p><p>He scanned the tower for any signs of his presence being needed, and almost immediately, he saw a figure leaning a little too closely over the edge of the top of the tower. He blinked, and instantly he was transported to the figure’s side. </p><p>All of Paris winked in bright lights as the snow fell around them. Crowley neared the figure, placing a hand on the person’s shoulder. “I know what you’re thinking, and believe me, I’ve thought about it too,” he whispered into the person’s ear. </p><p>The person, a woman with a large beret and a large pout of lips, turned to face him, wide-eyed. “Who are you? What’s going on?”</p><p>“I think you know the answer to both of those questions much better than I do.” Crowley was surprised at how easily and gently the words slipped from his lips, like a tender balm being massaged over a wound.</p><p>The woman closed her eyes, the tears streaming down her cheeks with flakes of black mascara. “I can’t do this, monsieur. The money is gone, and I’ll be arrested. No questions asked. I just want to stay here for the rest of my life. Alone.” </p><p>Crowley’s gaze softened. “Money, huh? You think that’s what’s gonna guarantee your happiness, then?” </p><p>“My freedom, at least.”</p><p>“My freedom didn’t come with money, you know. It came with my dearest friend, who believed in me so much that he begged the One I had transgressed for a second chance. Surely you’ve got someone who believes in you like that.” </p><p>She glanced up at him. “Well, no, but… there is this one guy at the cafe down the street from my apartment, in the 9th Arrondissement, but he doesn’t really know me or anything, so I don’t know if he says he believes in me or if he really means that.” </p><p>“Why don’t you find out? Surely there are ways to come up with money. It’s Christmas, after all, and second chances are aplenty. Who knows? Tonight’s fair game for anything to happen, you know!” Crowley grinned at her, performing a small financial miracle with a quiet snap of his fingers. Not enough to alleviate her situation, but enough to provide hope. </p><p>She blinked away her tears. “You really think it’s worth a shot?”</p><p>When he nodded, she took his hand, took one last look at the Parisian skyline, and shook her head. “Merci beaucoup, monsieur.” </p><p>Crowley drew in a breath. He had restored peace to a human life and his own, in one fell swoop. A smile graced the has-been demon’s face as he blinked back to London, ready to give Aziraphale a triumphant hug as soon as they met at the Ritz. </p><p>Second chances weren’t just for humans after all.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hope you enjoyed! Kudos/comments are always appreciated. :)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. 7 - Frasier: "Les Frères Malheureux" (Part 1)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Here's Frasier! This part was fun to write, and there's still more to come! This one may end up with three parts, depending on how it all resolves. I'm trying to keep the chapters pretty short, just to stick to the length of small one-shots, so the parts come with that, but enjoy! And yes, the title came from Les Frères Heureux, in "The Innkeepers," one of my favorite episodes of the show! :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Isn’t this divine, my angel?” Frasier murmured in Charlotte’s ear as she peered over the edge of the balcony of their room. They studied the jagged landscape of the French Alps together, and it was a few minutes before Charlotte caught her breath at last. </p><p>“It’s gorgeous, Frasier. I can’t thank you enough for inviting me to join your family for your Christmas trip, really.” </p><p>“It’s a pleasure to have you join us. I just hope you’ll find this little corner of this magnificent country a true delight, as it has become one of my favorite destinations on the charcuterie of France’s offerings.” </p><p>Charlotte chuckled at Frasier’s eloquence. “What a lovely description. You know, Daphne mentioned that she was going to go to the spa tonight after her dinner with Niles. Do you think she’d mind if I joined her?” </p><p>“I wouldn’t see why not. Daphne gets along with just about anyone.”</p><p>At that moment, a series of frantic knocks echoed on the door of the suite. Frasier and Charlotte exchanged glances before Frasier answered it, meeting Niles’s wide eyes and agape mouth.</p><p>“Frasier! It’s Daphne. She’s having a migraine. I took all of my ibuprofen on the airplane when that infant was crying, that one that reminded me of David, and I was wondering-” </p><p>“The ibuprofen is in my toiletry bag on the bathroom countertop. What does she think is causing her migraine?”</p><p>Niles shrugged as he nodded at Charlotte and entered the bathroom, proceeding to plow through Frasier’s toiletry bag. “She doesn’t think it’s the mountain air. That would have started this morning when we arrived. No, this didn’t start until just a few minutes ago, when she claimed an unsettling presence was permeating the resort. Now, Maris is in Switzerland receiving her bi-annual cuttlefish tentacle facial, so that rules that out.” He paused for a moment. “Well, unless she can sense her bony little presence from across the border…” </p><p>“Niles,” Frasier placed his hand upon his brother’s shoulder, “I think it’s safe to assume Daphne’s psychic abilities cannot cross into Switzerland without going through border control first. I’m sure she’s having some anxiety with being separated from David for the next week and half, and who could blame her, really?” </p><p>Niles shook his head. “She seemed perfectly content to let Ronee and Dad keep him over the holidays, but you might be onto something. Maybe it’s just a lot of worry over that.” </p><p>He glanced down at the bottle of extra-strength ibuprofen in his palm. “In that case, maybe a nice dose of this and a phone call will remedy this little malady. Thank you. I’ll return the bottle after dinner.” </p><p>“You’re welcome. We’re looking forward to joining you two at the rooftop lounge at 5:30, if that suits you.”</p><p>“I don’t see why it shouldn’t,” Niles waved to Frasier and Charlotte as he shut the door behind him, “see you there.” </p><p>Charlotte smiled at Niles and glanced back at Frasier. “Well, is everything always an emergency for him when it comes to Daphne?” </p><p>Frasier wore a small smile at the thought. “Not an emergency, per se, but more like a blessing. He’s been in love with that woman for years, even before she knew it. Any opportunity to spoil her or baby her is golden for him.” </p><p>“How sweet. You know, Frasier, I really ought to get ready for dinner, get a shower and all that. I’ll only be an hour or so in the bathroom.”</p><p>“Not a problem at all, Charlotte. I think I’ll change and take a brisk walk to the lobby. You know, that pianist could use a hint of instruction on that rendition of Schubert’s ‘Serenade,’ I think. More tender and smooth, not so staccato on the swells. Off I go, then!” With that, Frasier left the room to give Charlotte privacy, en route to the lobby in pursuit of classical corrections.<br/>
____________________________________________________________________________</p><p>Frasier stepped off of the elevator, waltzing into the lobby with the grandeur of a proud peacock, wearing his broad smile proudly. He neared the pianist, pausing by the massive Christmas tree to listen for a few moments before deciding to venture closer, a few eloquent corrections upon his lips. </p><p>“Dad!” </p><p>Frasier stopped dead in his tracks. He glanced over the shoulder of his well-pressed Oxford shirt. “Frederick?” </p><p>Freddy grinned at his father, setting his leather suitcase down to embrace him warmly. “I didn’t know you were coming to France for the holidays.” </p><p>Frasier gave his son a quick hug, his eyes scanning the lobby for the presence of the infamous witch herself. As sultry as she may have once appeared to him, Frasier was determined not to let Satan’s she-spawn ruin this vacation. </p><p>“Mom’s over there, Dad.” Freddy pointed to the concierge desk. Frasier’s eyes widened at the sight of Lilith’s stick figure bending over to sign a few papers.<br/>
Just as he had managed to look away from her, Lilith noticed that Freddy had already moved from her side. She signed the last document, gathering her gloves in her hands, her eyes tracing her ex-husband’s figure. “Frasier?”</p><p>“Dear lord,” he groaned, shaking his head slightly as she took her train case and walked his way. </p><p>“I had no idea-” </p><p>“Yet here you are, right on the weekend I’m about to propose to my girlfriend in the most picturesque resort in the Alps, waltzing through the lobby with my son, just waiting for me to come crawling back to your spider-fingered clutches and psychiatrically-intoxicating wiles! Go ahead and doom me, you temptress of Beezelbub! Put me on a leash and drag me to your lair! Make me the fool I always have been for you!” Frasier spat, his face red with fury and passion all at once. </p><p>Everyone in the lobby had turned their attention to the live action soap opera occurring before them. Freddy’s jaw dropped.</p><p>Lilith blushed, what blood could rise to her cheeks and create a pale splash, and took her ex-husband’s arm. “Stop making a scene. Let’s talk in private.” She took her room key from her purse and guided him to the elevator. “You too, Frederick. Come on.” </p><p>Reluctantly Frasier went with her to her room, slightly more comforted by his son’s presence. Surely the Medusa wouldn’t attempt to seduce him in front of their son.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hope you enjoyed! Kudos/comments are always appreciated, and I love talking about Frasier, so hmu in the comments!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Unfortunate Update</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>As much as I hate to write this, due to completely unforeseen events in my personal life, I will not be able to finish the entirety of this fanfic. However, I will be shortening the 30 Days to 12 Days of Fandoms, and Frasier will hopefully be finished by the end of this week. I will do my best to hit all of the fandoms I mentioned/tagged, but whatever I am not able to write, I will attempt to find another means of writing/replacement in the near future. </p><p>Again, I am so sorry for this development, but I hope to continue to provide fun holiday fics/one-shots for y'all for the next couple "Days" of Fandoms! Happy and safe holidays to everyone :)</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. 8 - Frasier: "Les Frères Malheureux"</h2></a>
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    <p>Niles wore a small smile as he strolled down the hallway to the grand ballroom, where he would wait for his lovely angel. Just as he neared the doors, a stick of a woman appeared in his peripheral vision. </p><p>“Niles Crane?” </p><p>Niles glanced over his shoulder at the merry murderess herself. “Maris!” he gasped, his eyes growing wider by the second as he studied her paperlike complexion and sour gaze. “But, I thought… Switzerland?”</p><p>Her thin lips drew into a crooked grin. “Well, my doctor wasn’t able to perform the facial, as it seemed the tentacles couldn’t properly relax upon my cheeks. I’m in the Alps for a mountaintop snow mask in the spa tomorrow morning, so you’ll be able to enjoy my presence for the evening. What about dinner, the two of us?”</p><p>“Maris, I don’t know exactly what you mean by coming here to this resort, of all places, but I’ll have you know that I am happily married to the love of my life, who notably isn’t you. She and I will be dining together tonight, while our son is with his grandparents for the holidays. If you have any dignity about yourself, which can’t be much since the great urinal cake scandal, you’ll leave us alone.”</p><p>A momentary pause slipped between the two. “You want to talk about dignity, Niles Crane? You humiliated me, stood up your second wife, and ran away with a Cockney cream puff in a Winnebago, and rumors are that your son was born at a veterinary hospital. You are the most undignified human I’ve ever met.”</p><p>“Then your mirrors must be on strike. So what if I’m ‘undignified’ in your eyes? The only love and respect I seek is from my angel of a bride, who loves me for who I am, not what social offerings I bear!” </p><p>Maris’s pencil-like eyebrows shot upwards. She shook her head. “You were always impossible, Niles. Impossible to figure out, but always so malleable. That’s why I was so drawn to you in the first place.” She took her purse and stormed out of the ballroom, past Daphne as she was entering the room.</p><p>“So tha’s where me headache is coming from!” Daphne moaned as Maris left the room, welcoming Niles’s tender embrace. </p><p>“Unfortunately. It’ll only last for the night, darling. Just enjoy your night at the spa with Charlotte, and prepare yourself for a night of pampering once you return to your mountaintop suite.”</p><p>A soft smile met his loving gaze. “I really don’t deserve you. All you’ve put up wi’ to finally be my husband, and you did it wi’ a smile.”</p><p>“You were always worth it, my dearest angel.”<br/>
____________________________________________________________________________</p><p>Frasier closed the door behind him as he entered Lilith and Frederick’s room. </p><p>“Frasier, I came because Frederick mentioned that a famous French skier was coming here for the holidays. It so happens that he enjoys watching some of the skiing on television while he’s practicing his clarinet. The smooth glide of the skis allows his fingers to float effortlessly with each note. He’s got a clarinet concert in January, and-”</p><p>“Lilith,” Frasier sighed, “No more. As much as I want to believe you, I just… why do you have to show up at times like this?”</p><p>“I didn’t choose to, Frasier. We keep running into each other. Sometimes that’s just how things are, and you’ve got to learn to accept that. Look, Frederick and I won’t bother you at all on this trip. We’re just here to meet the skier and go back to England, where we had originally planned to spend the majority of our winter vacation.”</p><p>Frederick’s eyes were wide as he watched his parents attempt to make up. “Was it true what you said about your girlfriend, Dad? You’re really thinking about proposing to her?”</p><p>Frasier’s steely gaze relaxed at his son’s question. “Well, Freddy… why not?”</p><p>Frederick smiled to himself. “I’m just happy to see you happy, Dad. You kinda deserve it.”</p><p>Frasier paused. “Why, thank you, Freddy. She’s a lovely woman, really. You’ll like meeting her when you come to see me next time. Lilith,” he glanced back at her, “forgive me for making a scene in the lobby. Sometimes… the past can be a little too haunting. I’m so willing to make assumptions about your intentions, when you’re just trying to be a good, supportive mother to our son. I really haven’t given you enough credit for all you’ve done for him.”</p><p>Lilith managed a small smile. “Thank you, Frasier. Don’t worry about earlier. Frederick and I want to invite you to dinner before we leave for England, if you’d like.”</p><p>“I’d be delighted. Tomorrow night, maybe?”</p><p>“Tomorrow night is just fine.”</p><p>____________________________________________________________________________</p><p>Frasier’s eyes glowed as he studied the restaurant, with its dimly lit atmosphere, paired with elegant Christmas garlands and quiet Christmas instrumental jazz. </p><p>Charlotte squeezed his hand under the table. “Thank you for letting me join you at the spa, Daphne. I’ve never had a chocolate scrub before!”</p><p>“Niles let me try one at the spa down the street from the Montana. Rather luxurious, I must say, but this one should be even better, since they’re mixing in peppermint crystals wi' their imported Belgian chocolate recipe.”</p><p>The two girls grinned at each other from across the table. Frasier shared a knowing glance with Niles. </p><p>“I take it you also had a rendezvous with your past, Niles?”</p><p>“And I walked out victorious, I should think,” Niles preened over a glass of sherry. “You?”</p><p>“Not so much victorious, but a bit more understanding, perhaps. How’s Daphne’s headache?”</p><p>“You know,” Niles mused as he sampled a bite of the creme brulee, “it’s gotten much better. I’m not sure if its the fact that we’ve both moved on or the women have seen they can’t get much further with us.”</p><p>“You think some of that headache comes from stress then?” Frasier arched an eyebrow, tasting a raspberry chocolate. </p><p>“Perhaps. Maybe it’s quelled, solely because life moves on, and sometimes the headaches aren’t worth it anymore.”</p><p>Frasier shook his head. “You know, as much as we’re discussing Daphne’s headache, we’re really facing ours.”</p><p>“How very intuitive of you,” Niles rolled his eyes, letting a small chuckle spill from his lips, “that’s some real radio psychology if I’ve ever heard it.”</p><p>“Oh, shut up, Niles.”</p><p>“You don’t mean that.”</p><p>“I most certainly do!” Frasier held a stern glare for a moment, before releasing the tension in his face for a warm grin. “No, to be frank, I’m glad we came to the Alps for Christmas. Perhaps the greatest gift we could’ve received this year is complete closure.”</p><p>“I couldn’t agree more.”</p><p>“Joyeux Noël to us both then, Niles,” Frasier nodded, clinking his glass of sherry with Niles’s.</p><p>“Joyeux Noël, Frasier.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Once again, so sorry for the late update. Hope everyone is staying safe and having a wonderful holiday season, as much as we can given the circumstances. As always, kudos/comments are lovely :)</p>
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<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Final Author's Note :)</h2></a>
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    <p>Oh, y'all, I've been on a wild ride since Christmas. I'm so sorry for such a delay in notices, but please keep in mind that I'm still working on a degree in college, and time (and obscene amounts of schoolwork) is not always my friend! Lots of things have been happening personally (some very very good, others not so much, mostly COVID related), but I'm back on the saddle. </p><p>For 2021, my goal is to give y'all those stories I had planned to write here, but so much more. I'm in the process of writing a Good Omens/Frasier crossover, which should prove interesting, but as for the others, believe me when I say they will be just as fun and exciting. Please keep a lookout on my account for fics for the following fandoms: Good Omens, Doctor Who, Frasier, Back to the Future (this may take a while, as the idea has become incredibly fun and entertaining!), Boy Meets World, Miraculous Ladybug (my roommate and I are basically rewriting the whole series, y'all), and plenty of one-shots/musicals in between. Oh, and for those wondering, I am putting the Family Ties story I wrote here in its own work, with plenty of additions coming its way! </p><p>I will give y'all what I promised earlier, it just may take more time than I initially anticipated. I look forward to talking with y'all in the comments, and I can't wait to see y'all on my other works. :)</p>
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